


Melting Beneath You

by smithandbarrowman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Secret Relationship, Shameless Smut, Smut, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithandbarrowman/pseuds/smithandbarrowman
Summary: Winter brought with it a secret. The coldness in his heart thawed, the warmth in her soul was why.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 22
Kudos: 212
Collections: Strictly Lumione Thawing Ice Fest





	Melting Beneath You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Strictly Lumione's Thawing Ice Fest
> 
> As always, the team behind me are a constant source of encouragement.
> 
> [coyg_81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyg_81/pseuds/coyg_81)  
> [PotionChemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionChemist/pseuds/PotionChemist)  
> [LaBelladoneX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelladoneX/pseuds/LaBelladoneX)
> 
> Thank you for all your help, support and comments that make me laugh xx
> 
> And thank you coyg_81 once more for the gorgeous pictures you make for me xx

* * *

“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy!” Narcissa’s voice was shrill as it echoed up the stairs. Her footsteps grew closer, the clicking of her heels sounding indignant on the polished wood of the hallway. 

Lucius groaned. “This should be interesting.”

“Is she—“

The bedroom door flew open and Narcissa barged in, waving that morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet. “Would you care to explain—“

A gasp of shock had Hermione lifting her head. 

“G’morning,” she muttered and dropped her head back to Lucius’ chest. 

“When... what... how…?” Narcissa stammered. 

“Three very good questions,” Lucius mumbled. “But _my_ question is, why are you in my bedchamber at this ungodly hour of the morning?”

“It’s ten o’clock,” Narcissa informed him as she regained her composure. “I don’t consider that ungodly.”

“It is if you were awake half the night,” Hermione grumbled.

Lucius snorted a laugh and Narcissa’s jaw dropped open.

“If you would give us a few minutes, Narcissa, and wait in the living room. We can talk about this like civilised adults.”

“Fine.” Narcissa nodded and turned with a huff, closing the door with a loud bang.

“What the fuck was that!?” Hermione sat up, wrapping the sheet around her. “She just walks into your house — into your _bedroom_ — whenever she wants? Does she do that when I’m not here?”

Lucius was startled. Her initial reaction had given him pause to think she would take Narcissa head on. 

“That’s what this is going to be?” Hermione snapped and climbed out of bed, dragging the sheet with her. “Me, you _and_ Narcissa? And instead of sending her away, we’re getting out of bed to _talk to her_? Why?”

“She...” Lucius sat up, cringing at the expression on her face. 

“Do _not_ say she deserves an explanation. This is not her business.”

“Hermione, sweetheart—”

“This is bullshit, Lucius!” Hermione was furious. “How the hell did she even know?”

“I suspect there may be something in the newspaper.” Lucius pointed to the paper Narcissa had dropped to the floor in her shock. 

Hermione flicked her wrist and the newspaper flew into her hand. She groaned when she saw the headline. 

_Gossip Abounds at Thawing Ice Gala_

There was a picture beneath it of her whispering to Lucius. The Ministry’s annual farewell to winter — The Thawing Ice Gala — was the previous evening and the only time she’d gone near him for the entire evening they had been photographed. Had they been stalking her all night? Or was it him? Were the gossip mongers chasing him and not her? 

_...Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy were spotted late into the evening sharing what we can only assume — by the starry eyed expressions of both parties — was an intimate secret. The pair were conspicuously absent just minutes after the picture was taken..._

Her anger over Narcissa was pointless in comparison. These people were worse than she would ever be. Narcissa at least would be discreet, whereas the journalists would be out for blood. 

Hermione glanced up at him. “Everyone will know.”

Lucius shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. He patted the place beside him. “Come here.”

Hermione stared at the newspaper, sighing at the mess her one action had caused, then moved to sit beside him. “I was careless. I’m sorry.”

He squeezed her thigh. “I’m not. We can finally stop the clandestine meetings and be seen in public.”

“But… Narcissa and Draco. And my friends. They’ll hate us. Narcissa already does, I assume that’s why she’s here. To rant at the Mudblood you’ve taken into your bed.”

Lucius cringed at the word. “You know that’s not true. And, as you said, this is not their business and they’d all do well to keep their opinions to themselves.”

“Your ex-wife is in the living room. I’m sure she’s quite ready to share her opinions.”

“She is and she probably has much to say. But it won't be about you being a Muggle-born. And, had you not thrown a fit at me, I would have explained that my want to speak to her was to lecture her as to what is proper and what is not when it comes to storming into my home. I have no intention of justifying myself to her.”

“Oh,” Hermione said meekly. “So you’re not sorry about this.”

“Hermione, darling, in the last few months have I once expressed any regret over you?”

Hermione stared down at his hand on her thigh…

The last few months…

* * *

  
  


**FIVE MONTHS EARLIER…**

Another Ministry ball, another ball gown, another pair of heels. 

Another waste of time.

Hermione hated them. Hated the fact she was expected to attend, expected to parade around like she was Ministry property. Which she most definitely was not.

She’d never been interested in a Ministry career — much to the chagrin of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Her little apothecary was where she was happiest. She didn’t have to deal with the bureaucratic rubbish that was in abundance at the Ministry. She was her own boss, answerable only to herself and her customers.

But as a decorated war hero, she was expected to attend Ministry functions. And since the Christmas ball was the main event of the year — her presence was required in the name of unity.

She rolled her eyes at her reflection. The theme was ‘White Christmas’, but her hatred of these events meant she refused to buy something new to wear. Instead, she’d Transfigured last year's dress into a pale green backless dress, with an obscenely high slit in the front. Her six inch strappy heels made the slit look even higher, which gave her no small amount of pleasure. She’d left her hair down, allowing her unruly curls to do as they pleased, giving her a ‘freshly shagged’ look. 

She grinned. The Ministry liked to parade her as the wholesome girl next door. She was, however, anything but. 

Her dalliances were discreet — not that she cared if they weren’t — and mostly Muggles because they had no idea who she was. The _boys_ in the magical world were only after her for fame, for bragging rights, to be the one who had her first. But little did they know, a few months after the end of the war she’d taken a trip to Bulgaria...

And she certainly wasn’t interested in the immature advances of boys who had no imagination. Roses made her want to vomit and chocolate was her least favourite sweet on the planet. 

No, she wasn’t interested in _boys_ . Her interest was in _men_ . Men who weren’t sweet and sappy. Men who knew there was more to a woman than clichéd roses and chocolates. Men who were hard and dangerous. Men who knew how to both please _and_ pleasure a woman. 

And she’d yet to find the man who ticked all the boxes. 

“Hermione?” Harry’s voice called up the stairs. “Are you ready?”

“On my way!” she called back, glancing in the mirror once more and telling herself she could sneak out after an hour. It would be the usual crowd, the usual boys, the usual pick-up lines. She was cringing and she’d not even left the house. 

Grabbing her clutch she headed down the stairs and was greeted with a low whistle. 

“Well _hel-lo,_ Ms Granger.” Pansy was grinning at her while Harry and Ron stared open-mouthed. 

Pansy looked incredible in her own right. A white satin halter neck gown that clung to her, showing off every curve, and would have Harry glued to her side all night.

“Hi,” Hermione said with a wink at Pansy. “How are you feeling, Daph?”

“Fat and ugly,” Daphne groaned, rubbing her hand over her giant belly. “And seriously, white? I’m the size of a fucking whale and they want me to wear white? Only a fucking man would have come up with this theme, women aren’t this stupid.”

Hermione smiled sympathetically. “Daphne, honey, you’re neither fat or ugly. You’re beautiful and glowing.” She placed her hands either side of her friend’s belly and smirked. “And little Hermione thinks so, too.”

“One Hermione is too much for this planet,” Ron said as he wrapped his arm around Daphne’s shoulders. “Our daughter doesn’t need the added pressure of being named after the brightest witch the world has ever seen.”

“Probably doesn’t need the pressure of looking like her either,” Harry said with a nod towards Hermione.

“Meaning…?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

“Meaning, you look incredible.” Harry grinned, “Are you meeting someone there tonight?”

“You're worse than Molly,” Hermione grumbled. “And no.”

“Meeting one of your Muggle blokes after then?” Ron asked.

“When did you two turn into women?” Hermione rolled her eyes at her friends. “I’m going to this stupid ball only because I have to and will be back home in an hour in my pyjamas and reading a book.”

“Yeah, right,” Ron snorted. “You don’t get dressed up like that to be home in an hour.”

“And you know you’ll be asked to change that dress when we arrive,” Pansy told her. “White is the theme.”

“White _Christmas_ , is the theme,” Hermione replied. “And green is a Christmas colour. The Ministry might dictate the themes for these ridiculous farces, but they will not dictate what I wear. And unless they have truly specific rules, I won’t be playing by the _un_ specific ones.”

“You should have been a Slytherin,” Daphne quipped. “You’re more badass than anyone I know.”

“Slytherin wouldn’t have known how to handle me,” Hermione said haughtily. 

“We could barely handle her,” Ron said. “It was like being at school with my mother.”

“Hey!” Hermione cried and they all laughed. 

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” Harry said, slinging his arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “Do you need a jacket?”

“I’m fine, Dad.” Hermione deadpanned. “I’ll just do a warming charm.”

“Or not,” Pansy winked at her. “Maybe let the girls chill out and speak for themselves.”

Hermione glanced down at her chest and grinned. “Maybe.”

“Nope.” Harry held up his hands and cringed. “Just… nope.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The Ministry ballroom looked like Santa vomited inside it. 

The entire room was gaudy, over the top, and there were more Christmas trees than anyone could count. And it was a sea of white, as every guest — well, _almost_ every guest — had complied with the White Christmas theme. 

It was ridiculous.

It was why she hated these events.

She circled the room out of politeness, saying hello to her former classmates and avoiding the handsy creeps, then joined Pansy and Harry at the bar. 

“Poor, Daph.” Hermione smiled across the room at Ron as he fussed over his wife. “Not only does she have to be here, she can’t drink herself into a stupor and forget this farce.”

“Yeah, but look how happy—” 

“Do not finish that sentence, Harry Potter.” Pansy jabbed a finger into his chest. “I don’t care how happy they look, or that she’s glowing, or that our children won’t be at school together.”

Hermione glanced between them. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“Yeah.” Pansy shot Harry a withering glare. “Harry wants to have a baby. I don’t. Who do you think is winning that discussion?” She downed a shot of firewhisky — her eyes never leaving Harry’s — then turned back to the bar for another round. 

“Okay.” Hermione nodded slowly. “Maybe that’s a discussion for home.” She touched her glass against Pansy’s and they both swallowed the amber liquid. Hermione glanced quickly over Pansy’s shoulder to find Harry grinning at her and she had to stifle her laughter.

Pansy might have thought she was winning their discussion, but Hermione knew Harry. And Harry Potter had a plan. Pansy would be pregnant before Easter, and it would be all Pansy’s idea. Her best friend was quite the charmer when he needed to be. Pansy really had no idea. 

They ordered another round, then made their way to the table where Daphne and Ron were sitting. Harry handed Ron his beer and sat beside him. Pansy looked apologetic as she placed the sparkling water in front of Daphne, then sat on Harry’s other side. 

“At least it has bubbles,” Pansy pointed out. “You can pretend it’s champagne.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daphne grumped then winced, pressing her hand to her side at what was clearly a foot kicking her. 

“Just a few more weeks.” Ron kissed her cheek.

“Until there’s another Weasel in the world?” A drawled voice spoke from behind him. “Wonderful.”

“Ferret.”

“Weasel.”

“They're from the same family, aren’t they?” Hermione quipped. “It was like this was meant to be.”

Astoria laughed and sat beside her sister. “Yes, the Greengrass sisters did the world a favour and brought the two of them together... as they should be.”

Draco snorted and sat beside his wife. “Yes, it’s quite the display of unity. Are Blaise and Weaslette on their way or are they being fashionably late again?”

“We’re not thinking about why they’re late.” Hermione shuddered. Ginny was more than happy to share the reasons why they were always late. And Blaise was worse. They were perfect for each other. “And how are you feeling, Astoria?”

“Exhausted.” She glanced at her sister. “And I’m only at four months.”

Hermione couldn’t help but notice the pride in Draco’s eyes. The boy who was spoiled and had terrorised them all at school, had mellowed and was someone she now considered a firm friend.

She also couldn’t help but notice the other platinum blond across the room. 

“Are your parents on speaking terms again?” she asked and Draco glanced over his shoulder. 

“Despite what’s reported about them, they always have been. Mother is just back from Spain to help settle the manor sale.”

“They sold it?” Harry’s expression mirrored the shock they all held. 

Draco nodded. “Yeah. They wanted it kept quiet, the Prophet would have a field day making up reasons why they were selling it. But it’s just that neither of them want it. Nor do we. It's big and cold and, let’s be honest, completely ridiculous. Mother has a rather grand villa in Marbella, and Father has just purchased a townhouse in Knightsbridge. It’s been very amicable.”

Hermione looked past him once more. Lucius was deep in conversation with Narcissa and another wizard she didn’t recognise. The three were laughing and smiling, and a little… distracting.

Narcissa was her usual put together self. Impeccably dressed in an elegant off-white gown and sky-high heels. Her hair was pulled into a classic French twist and her jewelry was simple, yet made a statement. She was beautiful and — Hermione hated to admit it — causing a flare of jealousy to creep under Hermione’s skin. Men looked at her in the way men had when looking at untouchable things — slightly terrified and with no hope of succeeding. And Narcissa was definitely untouchable. 

Lucius, however, was different. The man didn’t give a shit about the Ministry, and it showed. He’d clearly made the same choice she had — to completely ignore the theme. Dressed entirely in black — with the exception of his silver waistcoat — his usual expensive, over the top robes were nowhere to be seen. Instead the frock coat he wore had obviously been tailored for him and fitted like a glove. His trousers tapered down his legs to his highly polished shoes, and the stiff collar of his shirt was held not with a tie, but a silver clasp. 

It was a Lucius Malfoy she’d not seen before. 

And it was a Lucius Malfoy that she was suddenly having very filthy thoughts about. 

“We’re here!” Ginny announced as she approached the table. “I’d say I’m sorry we’re late, but you all know that’s a lie.” 

“And please don’t elaborate as to why,” Ron groaned, making them all laugh.

Pansy leaned close to Hermione, whispering, “Why are you staring at Lucius Malfoy?” 

Hermione’s gaze darted around the table, but Ginny and Blaise’s arrival had distracted the group and they’d not heard Pansy’s question. “I’m not staring at him.” 

“Actually, you are.” Pansy’s eyes danced with amusement, but she kept her voice low. “I know your penchant for older men—“

“What are you two whispering about?” Ginny asked. “Ooh, does Hermione have a secret date lined up? Dressed like that she must have.”

“I don’t have a secret date. Pansy was just asking why I was staring at Mr Malfoy, but it was only because I was thinking about purchasing the manor.”

They all burst into laughter and Hermione smirked at Pansy as she stood. 

“If you’ll excuse me a minute, I need to speak to a man about a manor.”

* * *

She stepped out of the bathroom and met a solid wall of man. She stumbled slightly, and a pair of strong hands gripped her hips and something electric tingled over her skin.

“Shit,” she cursed, finally looking up. “I’m sor—“

“Ms Granger.” 

“Mr Malfoy.”

They stood staring at each other, his hands still firmly planted on her hips, her skin still buzzing beneath his grip. 

“Sorry… I wasn’t watching… where… I… _ah…_ ” 

“It appears you have been enjoying yourself tonight.” Lucius Malfoy’s voice was like silk. Smooth and deep, and raising goosebumps over her skin. 

“Oh, yes, it’s been a wonderful evening.”

_What the hell was wrong with her?_ She hated these things, and had spent the night rejecting more men than she cared to count. But the one she _should_ be rejecting, the one she hated with a passion, was causing butterflies to take flight in her stomach and heat to flicker between her thighs. 

“Really?” His eyebrow lifted in what Hermione thought was amusement. “I despise these things. I attend only to remain in the Ministry’s good graces. A show of unity and all.”

“You don’t believe in unity, Mr Malfoy?” Hermione knew she should step away from him, but his hands… his warm hands, his strong hands. Hands that… were gripping her tighter.

“On the contrary, Ms Granger.” He smiled down at her. A genuine smile that reached his eyes. Not the sneer she had been subjected to as a child. “I’m very much in favour of unity. A union between _us_ … is what we should be striving for.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped open. _Did he mean…?_

“Do you have your feet, Ms Granger?” 

“What?” 

“Your balance. Are you able to stand on your own ?” His fingers flexed against her hips and she wanted to say no.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” She stepped away, missing his touch instantly.

_How much had she had to drink?_ This was Lucius Malfoy. The man who… looked fitter than anyone else in attendance. 

_Gah! Lucius Malfoy, Hermione. You do remember him, don’t you? Lucius Malfoy, Muggle hater. Lucius Malfoy Death Eater… ex-Death Eater…. Lucius Malfoy… who was lifting her hand to his lips…_

“Ms Granger. It's been a pleasure to bump into you tonight.” He kissed her fingers. “And might I say, you look—” His eyes trailed down the length of her body, pausing first at her chest causing her nipples to tighten under his gaze, then down to the slit in her dress before returning his eyes to hers “—absolutely stunning.”

He smiled once more, giving her a single nod then walking down the hallway towards the men’s room.

Hermione stared after him. _What just happened?_

“Well now, isn’t this interesting?”

Pansy’s voice startled her and she spun around to see her friend grinning at her. 

“I was worried some creep had cornered you. But here you are chatting up Lucius.” 

“I wasn’t chatting him up, I just ran into him.”

“You ran into him in the loo? Wow, who’d have thought Lucius would fuck you in the loos.”

“Pansy! No. It wasn’t… I didn’t…” Hermione took a breath and curled her hand into a fist so as not to slap the smirk off Pansy’s face. “I came out of the ladies’ and ran into him. _Literally_ ran into him.”

Pansy cackled, “Oh, this is priceless. You _are_ swooning over Lucius Malfoy.”

“I’m not swooning.” Hermione glanced in the direction he’d disappeared. “He startled me, that’s all.”

“Startled…. wait! Was he rude to you?” Pansy glared down the hallway.

“No, he was actually quite… charming.”

Pansy’s glare instantly disappeared and her expression returned to mischievous. “Charming, really? You’ve spent the night telling every man who has approached you to sod off but, when the fittest man in the room does it, you’re all girly and giggly and swoony.”

“Fittest man?” Hermione arched an eyebrow at Pansy. “Should I go tell Harry about your crush on Mr Malfoy?”

Pansy waved her hand in the air. “He already knows and he doesn’t care. I married him so he sees it as a victory. But Lucius. You should go after that.”

“Pansy!” Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “I’m not interested in Lucius Malfoy. You do remember how he used to treat me, don't you?”

“Yeah, but I’m married to Harry, Daph’s married to Ron. Ginny and Blaise aren’t far off from the altar.” Pansy shrugged. “The world has changed. And so has that man. He and Narcissa have been divorced for three years, and I’ve not seen him with anyone else. So, he’ll be eager.”

“Well, he can be eager with someone else.” Hermione straightened her shoulders and began walking back towards the ballroom. “I’m not interested.”

Pansy caught up with her and grinned. “Yeah. We’ll see.”

* * *

  
  
  


The bell over the door chimed as Lucius stepped into the tiny shop. He bit back his smirk; it was exactly what he’d imagined. Neat and tidy. Organised. Shelves of ingredients stacked in order and precisely labeled. Not a thing was out of place.

It was Hermione Granger to a tee.

And it was Hermione Granger who was now looking up at him with an expression of pure puzzlement.

“Mr Malfoy?” 

“Ms Granger.” Lucius moved towards the counter where she was standing.

“What are you doing here?” She blurted, making him chuckle.

“This is an apothecary, is it not?” Lucius glanced around to emphasise his point. “And I find myself requiring some very specific ingredients.”

“I’m sure Draco could help you. He works for Jonas and Silverberry. They have a much larger range of ingredients than I do.”

“You don’t want my business, Ms Granger,” Lucius nodded. “I understand. I apologise for the intrusion.”

Lucius turned to leave but smirked when Hermione spoke up.

“Mr Malfoy, I’m sorry. I’m, _ah_ , just a little shocked to see you. You've never been here before, and I assumed Draco would make any potions you needed.”

Lucius hid his smirk and slowly turned to face her. “I suppose I deserve your mistrust. My behaviour towards you in the past has been abhorrent. Please allow me to apologise for it.”

“Well, I _guess_ an apology is a start,” Hermione said and Lucius nodded once more. 

The change in her demeanour was like a wand flick. The stammering, wide-eyed waif from the ball was nowhere to be seen. His recognition of his past behaviour seemed to have stirred the fire he knew was inside her, and the Hermione Granger who stood up to him countless times had appeared. 

And it was _that_ Hermione Granger he wished to deal with. 

“My apology is sincere. As is my want to purchase several ingredients from you.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment. He handed it to her. “I just hope you can give me what I want.”

He heard the tiny catch of her breath, noting the way her eyes flicked quickly to his and then back to the parchment. 

“I’m sure I can… satisfy your needs.” 

Lucius flashed a grin. “Many have tried, Ms Granger. Few have succeeded.”

She smiled sweetly. “Mr Malfoy, rest assured, I’ve not failed to please anyone, ever.”

“I would imagine not.” 

“Occamy egg?”

“Is there an issue?”

“No, I have them. But…” She pressed her fingers to her lips in an attempt to stop her grin. “Do you brew your own shampoo?”

He laughed, “No, Ms Granger. I’ve not the talent for such things.”

“So am I safe to assume you’re not brewing a love potion either?”

Lucius felt his face heat up. “A love potion?”

“Ashwinder eggs and Moonstone dust. Did you not know they’re the main ingredients in love potions?”

“I wasn’t aware.” His mouth twitched. “And I’ve certainly never needed one either.”

“Oh, I’m certain you never have.” Hermione winked over her shoulder as she disappeared behind the shelves at the back of the counter and Lucius took a much needed breath.

He’d chosen ingredients he knew were rare in the hope they would impress her. He had no actual use for them, he simply planned on donating them to Hogwarts. But she’d seen through his ruse and pointed out the least likely uses he would have considered for them. 

“Mr Malfoy?” Hermione called. “I’ll need to send the Ashwinder eggs directly to your residence — if that’s where you’re taking them. They must remain frozen or you’ll be in St Mungo’s with serious burns.”

“Are you asking for my address, Ms Granger?” Lucius’ lips twitched. He knew her enquiry was necessary, but he couldn’t help but tease. 

“Draco said you no longer lived in the manor.” She returned to the counter with the ingredients stacked in a wooden box. “And since I’m not one to stalk, I’ve no idea where you now live.”

“Were you planning on delivering them personally?” His gaze lingered on her face. Her eyes were big, dark brown and sparkling with mischief. They were the eyes he wanted staring at him while he pounded into the woman they belonged to.

“It’s not a… service I usually offer.” 

“I do not wish to disrupt your day, Ms Granger.” He reached for the quill on the counter and wrote his address on the parchment. “You can have them sent there.”

Rolling her lips in amusement, Hermione smiled at the address. “Knightsbridge. Fancy.”

“It’s suitable.” 

“For Muggle London?” 

“Now, now, Ms Granger. I’ve no issue with living in Muggle London. I find it quite pleasant. More so than Wiltshire.”

Hermione traced her fingers over the cursive writing of his address and Lucius was surprised when the box disappeared from the counter. 

“Silent, wandless magic?” 

“Yes. Something I’ve been capable of since I was eleven.”

“Draco said you were talented, he never said just how talented.” 

“Well, Draco isn’t always forthcoming with the compliments.” 

“Ms Granger, compliments aren’t necessary when your talents speak for themselves.” Lucius covered her hand with his. “Talents I’d rather enjoy learning more about.”

She stared at his hand still covering hers and he watched her as she mulled over his words. Her skin was warm, soft and smooth, and thoughts of just how soft her skin was elsewhere meandered through his mind. Slow pictures of pale skin flecked with tiny freckles, of curved hips and toned thighs. Pert breasts that would fit his hands perfectly, of tiny pink nipples pressing into his palms. 

She’d been his every fantasy for months.

The ridiculous Hogwarts Restoration Ball that had become an annual event at the Ministry each August, had been the first time he’d truly taken notice of her. It wasn’t what she'd been wearing or the way her hair had been piled messily on top of her head. The way she looked had been secondary. 

It was her attitude that had caught his eye.

She had looked as bored as he had, her annoyance at the young men approaching her had amused him to no end. She wasn’t polite about it, flashing them death stares and waving them all off before they could speak more than a few words. 

But what he had also observed was her reactions to the more mature men she had conversed with. It appeared a refined gentleman, conversation, and intelligence was what she was attracted to, and that had piqued his interest in her further.

His usual modus operandi at Ministry balls was to show up, linger for an hour to be polite, then leave without being seen doing so. But this time he’d stayed and watched her. He’d watched as she worked the room like a pro, laughing with those who mattered, rejecting those she clearly couldn’t be bothered with. She’d definitely missed an opportunity; she could have easily been Minister of Magic right out of school. 

But she was far too intelligent to take on a Ministry position. And despite their want to have her under their roof — parading her like some prized possession — he knew the Ministry would be hard pressed to control her. She was wilful and confident. Intelligent and shrewd. And far too opinionated for the likes of the stuffy Ministry of Magic.

No. The tiny fireball standing in front of him was a force this world had not been ready for. He certainly hadn’t been ready for her.

But now...

Her eyes finally lifted and she pulled her hand from his, a wary smile on her face. She stepped around the counter, her eyes never leaving his and Lucius braced himself for the slap across the face that was sure to come.

But she astounded him once more.

Stopping just inches away from him, she lifted her hand, not to slap him but to trace her finger along the lapel of his jacket. 

“Mr Malfoy.” Her hand slipped inside his jacket, her fingers pausing over his heart. “Why did you really come here? I know Draco could easily acquire the ingredients you supposedly need, so I assume your intention for coming here today was for a completely different reason.”

“You are far too shrewd, Ms Granger.” Lucius tapped her chin gently. “I did come here for a different reason.”

“Did that reason have something to do with the favourable union between us you wished to strive for?”

“Ms Granger, maybe we could discuss said union between us over dinner?”

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed, her fingers flicking over the top button on his shirt. “And what exactly would we be… eating at this dinner?”

Lucius almost choked as she smirked up at him, but he managed to hold his composure. Slipping his hand to her hip, he gripped her tightly and pulled her flush against him. Leaning in close to her ear he murmured, “Ms Granger, I guarantee the menu will be filled with the most pleasurable tastes.” He brushed his lips across her jaw. “My mouth is already watering in anticipation.”

He stepped back, taking pleasure in the glazed expression on her face. He was tempted to tell her to lock the door so he could lift her to the counter and taste her right there. 

“You have my address, Ms Granger. Be there at seven.” He turned and walked to the door, pausing to glance back at her. “Also, I rather enjoyed you in green.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Lucius glanced at the dining table, a self-satisfied grin gracing his fine features. He dragged his index finger across the highly polished wood and his grin turned to something more wicked.

_Pleasurable menu indeed,_ he thought, making his way across the room and into the living room. It was almost seven and Lucius knew she would be prompt. It was in her nature. Seven meant seven. Not five minutes to, nor five minutes after. 

He brushed his hands over his waistcoat, gripping the hem and tugging it straight. He’d dressed down — at least, it was dressed down for him. Black trousers, charcoal waistcoat, and a simple white shirt with the top buttons undone. Dinner with a woman was usually a formal affair, however, he knew this would be different. Hermione Granger had changed his entire perspective of what women were truly like. 

Narcissa had given him a glimpse all those years ago, but she had returned to her usual proper aristocratic self after their one night together. 

Hermione, however, had remained her forward, confident self. Her barely concealed innuendos, the mischievous glint in her eyes, the ease with which she touched him, it was enough to have him twitching in anticipation. 

He’d spent too many nights wondering…

What would she feel like under him? Or over him? Would she be quiet? Loud? Would she scream his name as she came? Would she taste him, like he wanted to taste her? Would she be dominant or submissive? Or would they be equals? 

And after their encounter that morning, one of those questions had been answered — she absolutely _would_ be his equal. 

Lucius poured two glasses of firewhisky, placing one on the side table before settling into the armchair beside the Floo. She would see him the second she stepped out. 

He sipped his own drink — attempting to calm his thumping heart — and stared at the clock, watching the seconds tick away. With one minute left until the clock struck seven, the Floo lit up and his already thumping heart took off, pounding against his ribs. 

Her pale pink satin slip that was masquerading as a dress left very little to the imagination. The hem rose high on her thighs, and the cowled neckline dipped low on her chest, barely concealing the swells of her breasts. Her nipples were tight, pressed against the fabric, and he was sure if she leaned forward, she would spill out and give him a pre-dinner show. 

“Mr Malfoy.” She was smirking at his expression. “Apologies for the lack of green.”

Lucius arched an eyebrow. “You don’t look the least bit sorry, Ms Granger.”

“What can I say, I don’t like rules.” She stepped in front of him, smiling as she slowly reached forward and plucked the glass from his hand. She raised it to her mouth, her eyes never leaving him as she took a sip. 

“Are we sharing?” Lucius watched her lips as her tongue slipped along them, capturing a spilled drop.

“Wasn’t that the point of this evening. To share tastes?” She handed the glass back to him. “And might I say, Mr Malfoy, your tastes are exquisite. Macallan, single malt. I’m guessing fifty years old?”

“It seems I am not alone in my preference for fine things.” He stood slowly, taking a sip from the glass then offering it to her again. 

Taking the offered glass and swallowing the remainder, she touched her fingertip to the bared skin beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I’ve become quite the snob, Mr Malfoy. My penchant for only the finest has hindered many things in my life. So much so, my life has become a bore.”

“Hmm,” Lucius hummed, taking the empty glass and placing it on the small table. Curling his hand around her hip, he leaned in. “How dreadful. Maybe I could assist in rectifying your predicament.”

“You could certainly try.” Her voice was low, her mouth so close to his, he only needed to lean in a breath and his lips would be touching hers.

“I would certainly succeed,” he whispered. 

She touched her nose to his. “Are we going to continue this dance, Lucius, or are you going to kiss me?”

When their lips touched, it was lust like he had never known. It was like fire and ice — the heat of her mouth and the shiver down his spine. His tongue swept into her mouth meeting hers, and he let out a groan — she was his every fantasy coming to life. 

And in that one moment, he had to know. 

He had to have her, to feel her under him. Had to watch her face as his body connected with hers for the first time.

He wound his arms around her waist, tugging her close, and loving the feel of her tiny frame moulded to him. Her six-inch heels brought her almost level with him, but he knew without them, she would tuck perfectly beneath his chin. It was that thought that brought him up short. 

Lucius pulled back to look at her. She was staring at him, her eyes expressing the same realisation that had just dawned on him.

They were perfect together. 

“The finest things indeed,” she breathed. 

He kissed her again, just a quick brushing of his mouth on hers. “Hermione, I believe I promised you an evening of pleasurable tastes. If you would join me in the dining room?”

She traced his bottom lip with her finger. “You don’t want to keep kissing me?”

“Indeed I do, but I have a… feast planned. I’d hate for you to miss out.”

He led her to the dining room, smirking at the confused expression on her face. The table was bare, save for the single white lily in the centre. And all but one chair had been removed. 

“And this feast consists of…?”

Lucius sat in the high-backed carver chair at the head of the table. He held out his hand, palm up, and indicated the empty table in front of him. 

“This feast consists of you.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide as she glanced between him and the table. Lucius’ heart skipped a beat — had he read this all wrong?

Was she simply playing a game? Was her bravado just a front? Was the confident woman she appeared to be just her public persona? 

His fears, however, were instantly allayed as her lips slowly lifted into a wicked smile. “The most pleasurable menu? You’ve not tasted me, Lucius. How would you know?”

“Hermione, darling, I don’t need to taste you to know you are the most exquisite, most pleasurable, most desirable woman who has walked this earth.” He leaned forward and smoothed his hand across the polished wood. “However, the proof as they say, is in the tasting.”

Hermione moved to stand beside him, leaning down and running her fingertips along his thigh. “Are you the only one… eating?” 

“I thought I would choose from the menu first.” His stomach clenched as her hand stopped just millimetres from the growing bulge in his trousers. “But, if that displeases you, by all means make your choice.”

She leaned down further, giving him a glimpse of what was barely hidden beneath her dress. And much to his disappointment, the fabric remained precariously in place. 

“I believe the proper etiquette _is_ ladies first.” 

She pushed his legs apart and dropped to her knees between his thighs, immediately unbuttoning his waistcoat. Shoving it aside, she tugged his shirt free from his trousers, yanking it apart, the buttons skittering across the floorboards. Her fingers traced his torso, gliding across his chest and abdomen, teasing the hair on his navel.

“And who am I to question proper etiquette?” Lucius gripped the arms of the chair as her hand finally covered his straining cock. 

“This will be quite the meal.” She flicked the button on his trousers open then slid the zipper down, her breath catching at the sight of him. 

“Oh, I might have forgotten to mention—” Lucius smirked at her surprise at his lack of underwear “—I wanted you to enjoy this meal uninhibited.”

“How very thoughtful of you.” She slid her hands around his waist, urging him to lift his hips. Tugging his trousers down, his cock sprung free — fully erect and hard — and her tiny gasp caused him to smile. 

This wasn’t what he’d planned. He’d wanted to lay Hermione on the table and take his time to feast on every inch of her. He’d wanted to savour her, enjoy her sounds, her release. But, right then, on her knees before him was infinitely more pleasing.

“Oh.” The sound was little more than an exhaled breath as she took him in. “Oh. You’re… _oh_.” She looked up, her bottom lip sliding between her teeth. “I think I’m going to enjoy tasting you.” 

Lucius cupped her jaw and brushed his thumb across her lip. “Taste anything you want, darling. I’m at your mercy.”

He groaned as her mouth descended, pressing slow kisses over his chest. She sucked on his nipples, grazing her teeth over them, nipping and biting and forcing a hiss of air to escape him. Moving down his torso, her kisses remained slow, torturing him, teasing him, causing tingles of pleasure to ripple through him. 

Dropping his head back against the chair, he closed his eyes. He wanted only to feel. Her perfect lips, soft against his skin. Her fingertips brushing against his thighs. Her hair tickling over his belly. Her chin bumping the tip of his cock. The sensation of her was incredible.

“Lucius.” Her voice vibrated against his skin. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

He looked down at her, dark eyes shining, her tongue darting out to lick a trail along the length of his cock. His hands gripped the armrests tighter, his knuckles turning white as her lips closed over the very tip of him. 

“Fuck!” He hissed, watching his cock disappear into her mouth. Wet and warm, her teeth grazing, tongue teasing. The pleasure was almost too much.

One hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, twisting and sliding as her mouth moved over him. The other came up to cup his balls, stroking and squeezing, doubling the pleasure already tearing through him. 

Lucius watched her, fascinated. The girl he once hated, once thought beneath him, was now the woman he wanted with a possessiveness he couldn’t explain. And as she was — on her knees, pleasuring him like no other had — she was a sight to behold. 

His groan was loud in the room as her mouth stretched wide and she took him into her throat. A tremor clenched his stomach and he gripped her hair. 

“Stop. I need you to stop,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, but she didn’t listen. She moved faster, her head bobbing, her hands gripping him tighter. He didn’t want to come this way, not this time. He wanted to lay her out on the table, feast on her, then feel her tight walls milk his orgasm from his body.

But it was too late. His entire body seized, every muscle tightening. His cock swelled and with a deep groan he released into her eager mouth. She swallowed around him, humming with pleasure, and dragged her mouth slowly up his shaft, flicking her tongue over the head causing him to shudder. 

“Delicious,” she murmured and kissed his stomach. “Better than I could have imagined.”

Lucius curled his hand around her jaw, “I’m glad you approve. Now—” he helped her to her feet and lifted her to the table “—I believe it’s my turn.”

Hermione smiled at him and placed her feet on the armrests. Slowly she parted her legs — the satin of her dress slipping higher along her thighs — her smile widening at his sharp inhale.

“I forgot to mention… I wanted you to enjoy this meal uninhibited.”

Lucius stared at the vision before him. She too had forgone underwear and the sight of her bare and glistening had his mouth watering. “Hermione, you are… you are perfect.”

He smoothed his hands along the insides of her thighs, stopping at the juncture of her hips. His thumbs spread her swollen flesh, opening her to his gaze and revealing the liquid heat of her desire. He leaned in, landing his tongue over her clit, circling the tight bud before moving lower and plunging his tongue inside her. 

“Oh, gods! Fuck!” She lifted her hips, grinding against his face, and her fingers sank into his hair. “Again… more.”

Lucius turned his face to the inside of her thigh, sucking on the sensitive skin. “More? This is a feast, darling. It’s meant to be slow, to be enjoyed, to be savoured.”

“Lucius…” she groaned, gripping his head and dragging his mouth back to her centre. 

He swiped his tongue up her slit, capturing her clit between his teeth. She cried out, gripping his hair tighter as he sucked the tiny bundle of nerves into his mouth. The taste of her spread across his tongue. Salty, sweet, decadent. Delicious. 

It had been a long time since he’d tasted a woman in this way. The pure-blood women in his past wouldn’t allow it — his one night with Narcissa being the only exception — and in more recents times it had been a near rarity. But the few half-blood women, and the one Muggle, had not been like this. Hermione was so very different, so unlike anyone he had ever known. His need for her had grown every time he had seen her. He had begun to crave her, to want her with a desire he hadn’t known he could feel. 

This tiny woman. This confident, strong, wilful force of nature. She was everything he didn’t know he wanted.

A soft huff of air left her and Lucius smiled into her soaked core. This was a woman he could feast upon for the reminder of his days and die happily with her taste on his lips. 

He sucked on her clit, the tiny bud hardening between his lips. Her breathing picked up, breathy gasps and groaning exhales sounding as he slipped his tongue lower once more, licking the sweetness from inside her warm flesh. 

Hermione’s hands loosened in his hair, twisting the strands between her fingers and rocking her hips in time with his tongue. His thumb covered her clit, pressing down and drawing a heavy groan from her.

Her hips bucked when his finger replaced his tongue, cried out when he added a second. She was so warm and slick, and she wailed when he added another finger. He worked her, twisting his fingers, plunging them in and out of her tight body hard and fast. 

She clamped her legs around his head, her body squeezing his fingers and a sharp cry of his name echoed around the room. Lucius slowed his movements, licking her slowly as she gasped and trembled, her orgasm sliding over his tongue.

“Hmm,” he murmured. “That was quite the delicious feast, darling. I do hope I get to order this again.”

He found his feet and stood, vanishing their clothes before leaning over her. “You are a vision.” He kissed her stomach, his hands coming up to cover her breasts. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

“Good,” Hermione breathed, reaching for him and pulling him over her. 

His hands landed beside her head, “I’m going to fuck you now, Hermione.” He leaned down and sucked at her throat. “Tell me that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want…” She scraped her fingernails along his chest. “Your beautiful cock inside me.”

Lucius smirked down at her. “Inside you?” He rolled his hips forward, the head of his cock sliding over her wet skin. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she groaned, lifting her hips in search of him. “I want your cock, Lucius. Give it to me. Fill me up.”

Lucius hissed at her words, his cock twitching, wanting to be buried inside her. He bent down and bit her nipple — hard — causing her back to arch and another cry to escape her. “You are not at all what I expected. And your filthy mouth—” he licked her bottom lip “—your filthy mouth can taste me any time it likes.”

He gripped her thighs, shoving her legs wider. In one strong thrust he was inside her welcoming body. 

Lucius bit back his choked groan. Her slick core clenching around his cock was so much better than her mouth. She was so tight. So hot. So fucking wet. The sight of her body stretching around his thick shaft burned a hunger inside him — a deep, insatiable need to fuck her hard and never stop. He wanted her to feel him tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that.

He rolled his hips, withdrawing his entire length, teasing her with just the tip. She arched against him, her legs shaking as he surged forward again.

“Lucius,” she groaned. “Your cock... it’s... _oh,_ _gods_ , you feel so fucking good inside me.”

“And you, darling, feel like perfection around me.” 

His hands moved from her hips to bracket her ribs, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. He loved the way her breasts rocked with each thrust, loved the feel of her legs wrapped around his hips, loved the tiny whimpers and gasps that filled the air between them.

Her body quivered, her hands flailing, searching for purchase on the solid wood. The muscles in her neck stretched as her head rolled back and Lucius stilled inside her, landing his thumb on her clit and sending her flying. 

And she was beautiful. Her body taut, every muscle straining as her orgasm ripped through her. Her jaw dropped open, but her scream caught in her throat and came out as a choked whimper.

“Stunning,” Lucius whispered and began moving again, not giving her body the chance to recover. 

Moving his hands up her body, he pounded into her furiously, a trail of sweat dripping down his back. He squeezed her breast with one hand, the other he pressed to her throat. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, and she stilled instantly.

Slapping his arm away, her _no_ was a heavy sob and she turned her face away from him.

Lucius stopped moving, his hand paused in mid air, his heart pounding in his chest. _What had he done?_

“Hermione? Sweetheart, did I frighten you?”

She didn’t look at him but nodded. “I can’t... not my throat...”

Lucius touched her chin gently. “Look at me, darling.”

Hermione shook her head, closing her eyes and inhaling a shaky breath. Lucius winced. Tortured. She’d been tortured. And his idiotic brain didn’t remember.

He stroked the backs of his fingers across her cheek and spoke quietly. “Please, sweetheart. Look at me.”

Her eyes were filled with tears as she looked up at him. He leaned forward slowly — so as not to startle her — and kissed her softly.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” Lucius whispered. “I was thoughtless and scared you. I’m so very sorry.”

“I can’t, Lucius.” Her tears rolled down her temples. “Not my throat. Please don’t…”

He brushed her hair from her face and leaned his forehead on hers. “Never again, darling. I promise you, never again.”

She sucked in several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Lucius waited until she focused on him and smiled at her.

“We can stop.” He began to pull out of her, but she dug her heels into his back. 

“No, please. Don’t stop. I want this.” Her voice rose in panic and he touched her cheek again.

“It’s okay, darling. But let’s move elsewhere.” He kissed her and told her to wrap her arms around his neck, and a split second later — with their bodies still joined — he was lowering her to his bed. “Will you let me love you? Here in my bed, will you allow me to show you just how much you’ve captured my heart?” 

She touched his cheek and gave him a watery smile. “Please.”

Her lips were still trembling when he brushed his mouth across hers. He hated himself for what he had done — despite it being unintentional — but this was his chance to show her, to make her realise just how he truly felt. Curling his arms beneath her shoulders, he slid his fingers into her wild hair, kissing her slow and deep. His tongue stroked her bottom lip, waiting patiently for her to relax. She hesitated, still wary, but finally her lips parted and she sighed into the kiss. 

The way she relaxed into him was slow and sweet, a far cry from their frantic mouths and filthy words on the dining table. Now their mouths moved slowly, tongues touching, swirling, teasing, exploring each other as if for the first time. Everything else was forgotten — it was all just a blur of madness that brought them to this quiet moment. 

Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close and melting into him. Everything about her was perfection. Her delicate fingertips brushing against his shoulders. The tiny whimpers and sighs that he greedily swallowed. Her soft thighs pressed against his ribs. His years of being alone, of yearning to feel the burning desire he felt in that moment, were dissolved and replaced with the euphoric feeling of love in its purest form. She wasn’t arranged for him, had no expectations thrust upon her. She was simply with him by choice and his hunger for her burned like lightning through his veins. 

His cock throbbed inside her and he began to move, sliding in and out of her in slow, fluid movements. He dragged his knees up and curled his body over hers, kissing her cheek as she turned her face into his bicep. 

“Lucius,” she murmured, her hips rocking up to meet his slow thrusts. 

”Hermione.” He kissed along her jaw, carefully avoiding her throat.

She closed her eyes, and Lucius knew instantly — she was feeling everything he was. The desire, the heat, the hunger. The quiet whisper of her heart telling her this was everything she needed. His own heart was telling him the same. 

Lucius kissed her temple, taking his time, rocking slowly into her. She was building beneath him, her body beginning to tighten, her breath a series of gasps and breathy groans of his name. Her hands slid down his back — his skin tingling under her touch — and her teeth scraped the skin on his shoulder.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against her cheek and she turned her face to his. Their mouths met in a soft kiss, slowly growing deeper as Lucius flexed his hips in a hard thrust. “Feel me. I need you to feel me.”

Hermione’s arms tightened around him. “I do feel you. I feel you everywhere.” 

“I need...” his voice stuttered, a sudden urgency taking him over. 

His body thrust into hers. In and out, harder, faster unable to get deep enough. In and out, harsh grunts accompanied every thrust. In and out, her body tightening, climbing to its peak. 

In and out until she clenched around him, crying out his name. 

He rode her orgasm, feeling every spasm, every clench, the sharp bite of her nails digging into his hips. And just as her release slowly subsided, he began to drown in his own.

Pleasure like he’d never known raced along his spine, scorching heat into his balls and swelling his cock to an almost painful burn. 

“Let go, Lucius,” she whispered and tightened around him. 

Lucius dropped his head to her shoulder, thrusting one last time. His body tensed, and with a heavy groan, he spilled inside her. 

Sinking over her, his body shuddered, the intensity of his orgasm still rippling through him. He tried to speak but little more than a breathless groan escaped him. Nothing in his life had ever felt as good. He had never wanted anyone like he wanted her. And he knew one time with her would never be enough. 

“I want you like this again. Every day. Every night.”

Her words were a huff of breath against his neck. “You can have me.”

* * *

  
  


They laid together in the aftermath, murmuring quietly about nothing and everything until Hermione’s stomach growled loudly. 

“And here I thought I’d eaten enough,” she said with a playful grimace and Lucius laughed.

“I guess what I offered _was_ inadequate.” 

“There was _nothing_ inadequate about my meal.” She rolled away from him, sitting up and smiling over her shoulder at him. “You do have a kitchen in this house? With real food?”

“Yes, downstairs.” He nodded at the door. “Let me—”

“No, you stay there. Your legs probably couldn’t stand up right now if you tried.”

She scooted off the bed, laughing, before he could grab her and spank her arse for such insolence. She stood beside the bed completely rumpled, completely naked, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Are you calling me old, Ms Granger?”

She glanced down to where he was stirring beneath the sheet and bit her lip, murmuring, “Definitely not old.” Then she grimaced and squirmed. 

“Do you mind if I, _ah_ , clean up first?” 

Lucius frowned, then realisation dawned on him and his cheeks flushed pink. He sat up. “Of course… I should have taken care of that.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I like you inside me. I just don’t like the thought of you sliding down my thighs when I go to the kitchen.”

He nodded, not sure how to respond. Under normal circumstances he would have politely taken care of the mess, but this had been anything but normal. He’d seen stars when he’d come, had felt nothing but pure bliss, and hadn’t given a thought to how much of himself he’d left inside her. But she obviously didn’t care. 

When she emerged from the bathroom the sight of her naked was pale in comparison to her dressed in his shirt. Buttoned loosely with the sleeves rolled up, the stirring beneath the sheet intensified.

But…

“I wore that shirt yesterday. It’s not clean.”

She lifted the collar to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Maybe not, but it smells like you.” She squeezed his foot as she rounded the bed. “Now, the kitchen. Where might one find it?”

“Downstairs. To the left of the dining room… I believe you know where _that_ room is.”

“Downstairs. To the right of the kitchen? The room where great feasts happen?” She grinned and disappeared into the hallway. 

Lucius chuckled. How had he gotten so lucky? Why did she, of all people, allow him to covet her, to consume her, and accept him inside her body? His once bigoted ways had caused her no small amount of distress and humiliation, and that alone should have given her cause to hate him. But she hadn’t. She’d welcomed him, had given herself to him. 

Had let him see her in her most vulnerable moment. 

He’d been so lost in her he hadn’t given a single thought to how she might react to him exerting dominance over her. Bella’s wand had been at her throat. The crazed woman had held her down and used the Cruciatus on her, and had threatened her with death. Hermione had barely been of magical age when she’d been tortured in his home, and he’d done nothing to stop it. And his hand on her throat had brought all of that back for her. 

He closed his eyes and winced. He couldn't even imagine what she had gone through. The pain of the curse was said to be excruciating and, at her young age, he wasn’t sure how she had even survived. 

“Why are you frowning?”

Lucius jumped at her voice. His eyes flew open and he found Hermione with a tray of food in her hands and a frown on her own face. 

He shook his head. “No reason. Just thinking.”

“Don’t lie.” She placed the tray on the bed and sat beside him, crossing her legs and picking up a grape. “Tell me.” 

“I was thinking about you. The day at the manor.” His eyes flicked to her throat. “You were tortured in my home and I allowed it to happen.”

“It’s in the past, Lucius. I don’t hold you to blame for that.”

“Now who’s lying?” Lucius squeezed her knee. “You’re clearly still bothered by what happened. And I certainly didn’t think about my hands on you causing you distress.”

She took his hand in hers, linking their fingers. “I’m okay most of the time. It’s only when someone touches my throat that it all comes flooding back. And you weren’t to know that. Not in that instance, in any case.” A smile flickered at his lips and she laughed. “Lucius, it was unintentional. In the passion of the moment. You weren’t to know. I don’t hate you for it, if that’s what you’re thinking. You showed me just what kind of man you are.”

“A selfish arse?”

Hermione slapped his chest. “No. You made a mistake and then showed me how kind and gentle and loving you truly are.”

“So… you enjoyed it then?”

“I think you enjoyed it more.” 

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed his lips to her fingers. “I cannot tell you of a more pleasurable experience.”

She popped a blueberry into her mouth to hide her smirk. Lucius did the same, feeling for all the world, like a teenage boy having just lost his virginity. 

“So, why Knightsbridge? I thought central London would be too busy for you, especially after being in Wiltshire for so long?”

“I’ve discovered I rather enjoy the city. The manor grounds were wonderful, but the closeness and convenience of living here outweighs the space.” He paused, pursing his lips. “And the memories of what occurred there are not something I wish to live amongst.”

“Well, your home is stunning, Lucius, but it must be like a sardine can compared with the manor.”

“I’ve been here a few months now and yes, at first I thought I would go mad. But, living on my own, I’ve found the space is plentiful.”

“And the library…?” 

Lucius laughed. “The library, darling, is housed above us.”

Hermione glanced up at the ceiling, an expression of longing on her face. 

“You’re welcomed to use it whenever you like.”

“Why don’t you don’t allow people to see this side of you?” 

“Which side is that?”

She pushed the tray aside and climbed onto his lap, her knees bracketing his hips. “The kind side. The side that cares greatly for others. The loyalty you have for those you love.”

“Oh, _that_ side.” He shrugged. “It’s not something people expect from me.”

“So you hide it?”

“It’s easier, wouldn’t you agree?” He asked. “It’s why you go to Ministry events despite your hatred of them.”

“That’s true, but it’s rare that I stay longer than the first hour. You said it yourself, you turn up only to stay in favour and then leave as soon as possible. It keeps the Ministry happy and gives the masses what they expect.”

A sly smile curled his mouth. “But you’re not always pleasant to those masses. Many men have walked away from you, severely disappointed.”

“You’ve been watching me then?”

“ _Observing_ you, yes.” His hands slipped under her — his — shirt to curl around her hips. “You know what you want, Hermione, and advances by childish young men are not part of that.”

“I think you’ve been a little more than observant, Lucius. Pansy is the only one who knows of my preference for mature men. And yet you seem to have realised that in just a few months. And without even really knowing me.” 

“I _have_ been watching you,” Lucius admitted. “You are a fascinating woman, Hermione, you always have been. It doesn’t surprise me at all that every man who sees you, wants you.” 

Hermione ran her thumb across his cheek. “But there’s only one man who can have me.” 

“Are you sure?” His fingertips drew slow circles on her lower back. “People are much more forgiving these days, but I’m not sure they’ll see past me corrupting their beloved Hermione Granger.”

“I’m certain. But you’re hesitant to continue this.” She placed her hand over his heart. “Tell me why.”

“Hermione…” His fingers stilled and he shifted his hands to her thighs. “Saturday night at the ball, I watched you. I waited for you to finally remove yourself from your friends just so I could have one minute alone with you.” 

“You deliberately ran into me?

Lucius nodded, “Yes. The ballroom was too crowded, I would never have gotten you alone. And I needed to see your reaction. To see if I had even a sliver of a chance to fall into your good graces.”

“And what did you see?” 

“I saw a spark.” He ran his hands slowly along her thighs. “And that spark gave me hope. And this… having you as I did tonight, was the very last thing I imagined so soon. But…” he winced. “You’re the same age as my son…”

“You’re worried what people will think.” 

“Very much so. But more what they’ll think of you.” He gave a small shake of his head, “My reputation, my past, my age. They’ll think you desperate. Or possibly a gold digger.”

“Lucius...” She moved her hand back to his cheek. “You know I don’t care about any of that — the age difference, your money, your past. And I’m actually almost a year older than Draco.”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Almost a year? Well, that’s different.” 

Hermione laughed, “We’ve had one night… actually, we’ve had a couple of hours together. We don’t have to make this public knowledge anytime soon, if you don’t want to. Besides, I'd like to get to know you a bit before anyone knows about us. Including my friends and your son.”

He began to unfasten the buttons on her shirt, slowly baring her to him. “And just how much do you wish to know about me?”

Hermione shook her head. “And here I was thinking you were refined. But you’re just an oaf like all the rest of your kind.”

He pressed a kiss to her chest, his hand coming up to cup her breast. “Pure-bloods?”

Hermione slid her hands into his hair and tugged his head back, forcing him to look up at her. She smiled, hovering her lips over his. “Men.”

* * *

**PRESENT DAY...**

“It was your idea.” Hermione tossed the newspaper aside and looked up at him. “To keep this a secret.”

“I know,” Lucius sighed. “But, even if Narcissa hadn’t shown up, I would have suggested it was time. I don’t want to hide you — hide us — any longer.”

“What’s she going to say, Lucius?” Hermione rubbed her hands over her face. “I know the two of you are friendly, but I’m not sure I fit into that category.”

“Darling, Narcissa will be fine. I'm sure she’s a bit shocked right now, but I know she has nothing but admiration for you.” 

“That admiration may not extend to my sleeping with her former husband.” Hermione shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting to have to tell your ex-wife first. Draco, maybe, but not Narcissa.”

“And your friends? What will their reaction be to me?”

“Well, since we’ve hidden this for five months, my guess is a hissy fit of epic proportions.” 

“We’ll deal with them one at a time.” Lucius kissed her temple. “Now, I’m not sure about you, but I’m not speaking with Narcissa dressed like this.” 

Hermione snorted, glancing down at his naked form. “I would hope not.” 

He stood and held his hand out to her. “Would you join me in the shower?”

She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. “A shower, Lucius. Nothing more. Your ex-wife is waiting.”

* * *

Hermione paused at the bottom of the stairs. Narcissa was just a few feet away, waiting. Lucius’ reassurances had made little difference, her nerves were on edge and her mind was swimming with a million scenarios as to how this would go. 

Lucius’ hand squeezed her shoulder. “Stop worrying. Regardless of what she has to say, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know, but—”

He cut her off with a kiss. “No buts. This is about us. Only us. She can have her say and then move along. And that goes for all of them. Draco, your friends, the entire world. This is not their concern and, if they don’t like it, well... they’ll not be seeing us.”

“Lucius…” Hermione startled at his words. “You wouldn’t abandon your son. Not for me.”

“I would.” He kissed her again, then linked his fingers through hers. “Now, are you ready?”

“No,” Hermione said with a shake of her head, but allowed him to lead her into the living room.

They both stopped. 

“What…?” Hermione gripped Lucius’ hand tightly. This was the last thing she had expected. 

Narcissa wasn’t alone. 

Draco and Astoria were on the sofa beside her, baby Scorpius curled against Draco’s chest. Harry and Pansy were in the armchairs, and Ron and Daphne were on the couch that had magically appeared, with four month old Ava sleeping on Daphne’s lap.

“Are we to be interrogated?” Lucius asked, nodding towards the empty settee that had been placed before them. 

“Interrogation might be a bit harsh,” Narcissa said. “Questioned, might be more appropriate.”

“Nothing about this is appropriate.” Lucius scowled at them all.

“I’m not sure you’re a good judge of what’s appropriate,” Ron said with a pointed glance at Hermione.

“Excuse me?” Hermione glared at him. “We don’t need judgement from you, Ronald Weasley. You waited all of a minute and a half after you were married to knock up Daphne.”

Draco snorted and Ron held his hands up. “Whoa. I was joking, Hermione.”

She glanced at Lucius, who looked as confused as she felt. “Joking?”

“Yes,” Ron chuckled. “Joking.”

“Maybe you should both sit down.” Narcissa indicated the settee. “We are curious. Nothing more.”

“But…” Hermione looked around at them all, their faces held expressions of amusement, but it didn’t make sense. She sat heavily beside Lucius — his hand releasing hers and resting on her thigh— and turned to Narcissa. “So, your storming into the bedroom was… what?”

“Mother has a flare for the dramatics,” Draco explained. “She thought it would be a grand joke.”

“Fortunately we were only sleeping.” Lucius shot his former wife an incredulous glare. 

Narcissa laughed. “Lucius Malfoy. I would _not_ have entered the room had I suspected you were otherwise engaged. It was why I made so much noise before entering.” 

“This is not happening,” Hermione groaned and buried her face against Lucius’ shoulder. 

He kissed the top of her head then asked, “How is it that you all know?”

“Well, we’ve suspected for some time, but this—“ Pansy held up another copy of the newspaper “—confirmed it. If Hermione has something to say, she says it. She doesn’t whisper in anyone’s ear.”

“Plus, she’s been blissfully happy for ages,” Daphne said.

“As has Lucius,” Astoria added. “And since this blissfulness seemed to begin at the same time, we simply assumed.”

“So, we didn’t hide this very well at all?” Lucius asked.

“Well, that depends on how long you’ve been hiding it.” Pansy replied.

“About five months,” Hermione told them and winced at their stunned expressions. She hated lying to her friends, but she and Lucius had made the decision to keep their relationship a secret and she hoped they would all understand why. 

“ _Five_ months?” Narcissa glanced between them both. “Is that true?”

“It is.” Hermione sat up and looked straight at Narcissa. “Is that a problem?”

Narcissa’s face softened and she smiled. “Ms Granger. Hermione. Of course it’s not a problem. I’m certain Lucius has explained our situation to you. Our marriage was arranged, it wasn’t out of love.” 

Hermione’s eyes flicked to Draco, who waved her concern away. “I was produced in a single fit of passion. They love me, just not each other. I’m well aware, and am perfectly fine with it.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes at Draco. “Despite the crassness, my son is correct. Lucius is, however, my dearest friend and I am delighted he has found you.” 

Lucius smoothed his hand along Hermione’s thigh. “I told you.”

“Wait.” Pansy’s voice rose. “ _Five_ months. You’ve been together for five months. Were you ever planning on telling us?” 

“Pansy—“ Hermione began, but Lucius held his hand up.

“Ms Parkinson. Lower your voice.” Lucius’ familiar sneer had Pansy cringing. “It was _my_ decision to remain silent when it came to Hermione. I had some concerns about how she would be looked upon and, despite her reassurances that she didn’t care, I asked that we keep our relationship quiet.”

“Hermione?” Harry spoke up for the first time. “I don’t care about you both keeping things quiet, I understand why. But I just need to know, are you happy?”

She smiled at her friend, grateful that he knew she hadn’t gone into this blindly. “Very happy.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” He returned her smile then turned his gaze to Lucius. “And, Malfoy, I hope you remember that I took down a Dark Lord when I was seventeen. Do not hurt her.”

“Noted, Mr Potter. And I assure you my intentions are honourable.” He smiled at Hermione. “Ms Granger deserves nothing less.”

Draco groaned. “Sentimental bullshit. She’s tougher than anyone I know. You might want to watch yourself, Father. She’s already turned you into a sappy romantic.”

“Well, like father, like son,” Astoria said. “I’m more than happy to share some of the things you say to me.”

“I stand corrected. Sappy romantic is perfectly fine.” Draco squirmed slightly. “Now, why has no one poured the tea?”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Lucius found her hours later in the library, curled into an oversized armchair, and completely oblivious to everything around her. Her ability to remain focused for hours had astounded him. He had, on occasion, watched her without her knowing, and her never-ending surprise when he finally made his presence known amused him to no end. 

But this time her focus was not on a book. Instead she was staring out the window at the blue sky. Winter had disappeared and spring was gaining ground, slowly thawing the cold earth and welcoming the warmth of summer. 

It was an analogy that was more apt than he realised. 

She had thawed his heart and warmed his soul. 

“Darling?” He spoke quietly so as not to startle her. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, Lucius.” She turned to him, smiling. “Today went rather well.”

“Much better than expected.” He bent down and kissed her, and then noticed the newspaper on the table beside her chair. He picked it up and scowled at the picture of her whispering in his ear. “Is this why you’re up here staring off into space?”

“No… yes…” She took the paper from his hands and sighed. “This wasn’t how I wanted them to find out. I mean, clearly they suspected something, but I wanted to tell them all first, _before_ everyone else knew.”

“And that’s all my fault. I asked you to wait.”

She tapped the picture. “Yes, but I whispered in your ear.”

Lucius squatted in front of her. “Hermione, does it really matter how they found out? They know now and are all pleased for us both, so we no longer have to hide.”

“Are you sure about this?” She asked. “Because this will be big news. It already is.”

“I am absolutely sure. In fact…” he stood and held out his hand, pulling her to her feet. “Ms Granger, it would be my greatest pleasure to have you accompany me at dinner this evening for our first _official_ dinner as a couple.”

“Our first _official_ dinner, Mr Malfoy. That sounds delightful.” She stood up on her toes and kissed him. “And this dinner would consist of…?”

Lucius frowned. “Consist of? What— _oh_ .” He laughed and pulled her close. “It will _not_ bear any resemblance to our very first dinner. I’m ready to show you off in public, but _that_ is something for my eyes only.”

“So that dress—” she shrugged one shoulder “—the one you rather enjoy me in… or out of… you don’t want me to wear it?”

“Maybe you could give me a private showing when we return home.”

Hermione laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Lucius Malfoy…”

“Hermione Granger…”

“I’m glad you chose me.”

Lucius touched his forehead to hers. “No, darling. I’m glad _you_ chose _me_.”


End file.
